


Never the Other Way Around

by hophophop



Series: Things Said & Unsaid [6]
Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Gen, Season 3 Speculation, reference to miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 00:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2449193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hophophop/pseuds/hophophop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"You mustn’t be so sensitive, Watson. The service you’re providing is quite valuable."</em>  <br/>Joan's been replaced before. Who hasn't? It's fine.</p><p>spoilers for the official press release for 3x01 & written before s3 started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never the Other Way Around

**Author's Note:**

> borrowed head canon from beanarie: Joan calls her birth father Baba.

“Captain, sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got a little situation—“ The uni half-leaning through the doorway gives Joan an apologetic look, and she shrugs with a small smile. Gregson says he’ll be right back and heads off down the hall. She thinks he might be grateful for the reprieve. She takes a deep breath, a little grateful herself for the moment to collect her thoughts before giving him an answer.

She’s been replaced before. Who hasn’t? It’s fine.

_In third grade, when Sachiko told her she had a new best friend and to stop hanging around. That was when she finally learned not to show it, after six girls laughed at her disbelieving tears. Before that, her Dad, distracting her Ma and giving them that new house and her own room at last but then she huddled afraid and cold and alone in the new big-girl bed. The eerie shadows cast by the nightlight whispered mean things and Ma told her she had to sleep in her own bed now, but Dad didn’t and it wasn’t fair. Then the new baby who never came home. They didn’t talk about it after Dad explained about heaven and god taking people he loved who were too good or too broken and she didn’t understand. It was confusing; did that mean god didn’t love her Baba and Oren hissed at her not to ask stupid questions. And that was Joan’s fault, too, for wanting the baby herself yet resenting him, and after she was still replaced anyway by the empty crib and a horrible blankness in Ma’s eyes the whole summer._

It’s a fact of life; it happens to everyone. She doesn’t take it personally. She was just a little surprised at first, but she should have known better. It makes sense; Sherlock craves an audience, after all. No fun showing off to Angus, and besides, he left Angus too. No, that is, he chose not take a three-pound lump of porcelain in his carry-on, why would he? No need to be maudlin. Dramatic over-reaction is Sherlock’s thing. Plenty of people to listen to him in London, he told her, so what if he’d found one in particular. She doesn’t even want that anymore, never wanted it, remember?

_Oxy and coke and whatever else Liam could get his hands on, anything was better than her disappointment and her icy judgment, he had real friends who knew a good time, and then she stormed out to escape those words again feeling anything but — the disappointment was in herself, and it burned — until she came home shivering to a silent, frigid apartment, the windows left open and a cold front moved in and he didn’t come back a third time._

So. Someone new. Really, she should have expected it. It’s fine. Actually, it will make things easier now that he’s back. She worried about that, when she slipped and thought about him returning. Not something she indulged often. But she imagined it. Coming home to find he’d broken in. Never-ending texts. Her email hacked again. Pages rearranged on her wall and crime scenes co-opted. Interrupting, distracting, being a nuisance, all for the sake of getting attention cloaked in the name of the greater good. Showing up and taking over out of habit, convenience, the temptation of a half-healed scab. But this way, someone else can bear the brunt of it. A sudden chill prompts her to put her jacket back on; must be a draught in here.

The shock— that is, her surprise will wear off, and he’ll get his own cases to fuss over instead of picking at hers; plenty of work at the NYPD for two consultants. Gregson’s loyalty is lovely, expected, even; she can admit that. But she knows. He’s angry with Sherlock, and this is the punishment. If she says no, Gregson will back her up at first, but it won’t last. Sherlock won’t back off, is constitutionally incapable of it, and Gregson can’t, shouldn’t, in all honesty, pass up the help freely offered. And then it would only be a matter of time—

_When catastrophic incompetence replaced her ability to first do no harm she sought out new work with the replacing built-in. No more surprises. Her one task as sober-companion was to ensure she was replaced by her clients’ coping skills and support systems. She built the means of her own redundancy day by day. And those times she wasn’t good enough and they replaced her with drugs instead, at least she had a bit of a buffer. One way or the other, they’d choose something else instead of her. Being replaced was just her job._

She watches Gregson stride back to his office, stern face not turning to glance toward the wall where Sherlock lurks, needling Bell. She straightens a sleeve, recrosses her legs, smooths her skirt.

It’s fine.


End file.
